Fandom: @fallenhero-rebirth
Pairing: Flystep (Herald X Sidestep)
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“I like your arms.” He says one day, seemingly out of the blue.
You're sitting together, your back against his chest, his knees up and your legs stretched in front of you. You wanted comfort. It happens sometimes, that you need a physical touch beyond punching a Ranger in the face. Steel is always ready to take on the punches, but it’s Daniel who always opens his arms to your frame, your skin almost buzzing with that craving for another’s body heat.
“Isn’t that a bit shallow?” You snort quietly, flicking a glance his way, as if you could look at him in this position without twisting something.
“Maybe.” The vibrations of his voice echo against your back. “I like them anyway.”
“What’s there to like about them?”
Your tone is more self-depreciating than fishing for compliments, and you know he’s very well aware of it. He pushes his nose into your short, black hair, makes a sound that’s muffled by your head, then splays out his palms in front of you, settling his chin on your shoulder. You don’t need to crane your neck to see the “indulge me" look on his face. He doesn’t need to look up to see your eyes rolling skywards. You place your palms over his anyway, and he intertwines your fingers together.
“Sap.” You want to tell him, except that would mean speaking, and you're not certain speaking is possible right now with the way your heart has leapt into your throat and is pulsing a tribal drumbeat at the simple contact. You're still not used to this, the casually soft way he touches you, as if you were something precious, something worth cherishing.
“Well, for starters, they're the arms that saved Los Diablos countless times.” He begins.
You stop him right there. “If I hadn't had my telepathy back then they would’ve been useless. And now they’re all I can rely on.” It’s best if he doesn’t know, you tell yourself daily. It’s best if no one knows. It keeps you under the radar and away from suspicions, and it keeps Herald suitably scared for his own powers wearing off. You don’t like it. You tell yourself that what you like doesn’t matter. Except him, somehow. He matters. He wasn't supposed to.
“You weren’t called Sidestep for nothing, Maylee.” It’s strange hearing him say your name. It’s strange for him to say it too, you can hear it in the barely-restrained awe that echoes in his voice, as if he can't quite believe that he’s allowed to call his hero by her first name, to her face. “I saw what you could do, and your telepathy had nothing to do with being able to throw a guy twice your size off your back.” He insists, because of course he does. He never let anything go undefended about Sidestep. As if he knows more about who you used to be than you do. Wouldn’t that be the funniest thing.
You don’t say anything in response. He takes it as an opportunity to continue.
“They're also arms that are still strong enough to kick my butt when we're training.”
“And when we're not training. When we're doing it for real.” You want to add, and a hysterical laugh threatens to overtake you. You rein it in. Best not to alert him. He’s better that way. He’s safe.
“And...” He sounds almost shy, and you know he’s going to say something stupid. “They’re arms that you wrap around me sometimes. Like I'm special. That’s what I like most about your arms.”
And you should have seen it coming, and you did, and you hate it and love it all the more, the way your heart simply melts inside your chest. Just a bunch of words, like you're something important. Like you're special. And you fall for it every time. Hands that feel as full of calluses as yours but that still hold softly. A heart that hasn’t seen quite as many battles and bruises as yours, and that’s ready to see some more. An optimist. Someone whose eyes make a promise their hands assure they can keep. And you fall. Every time.
